Although We've Got Tonight
by KittenBeanie
Summary: Blaine wasn't expecting the singer at the Nightclub to take on a mutual interest.


_**Although We've Got Tonight**_

Inspired by fanart by this artist. So don't hurt me if it's bad, I had a friend of mine beta it. (you should ship us, no?) They're simply lovely.

I listened to a few songs while writing this, but a few stuck out to me. I recommend-

"Everybody Talks" by Neon Trees

"Bedroom Eyes" by Dum Dum Girls

"Tiny Dancer" by Elton John

They really aren't alike at all, except they remind me of this one-shot, so. This is a little long, and I might have overused italics, so I apologize in advance.

* * *

_"I can be your new addiction..."_

Blaine pushed his way into the bar, past the glass door with lettering that started the bar's name, but he couldn't care less about his location at the moment. All that mattered is that the place had liquor, because Blaine needed a drink **now.[[MORE]]**

He shoved his way to the black granite counter and let his eyes glide over the men and women seated at the stools. It was a fancier place, quieter music, leather seats and places to lounge, black walnut tables that had a little cream colored candles lit as centerpieces. The actual bar was in the back; the whole place was a huge rectangle, with the doors on one of the shorter sides closest to the counter. In the front was a stage with a trio of microphones and black curtains that were obviously just for show. Despite the lack of performers, slow music played in the background of the chatter at a volume that must have been tweaked until perfected.

The place was just what Blaine needed. Somewhere quiet where he could think, get intoxicated, and drown slowly.

Blaine waved over one of the stewardesses and ordered his drink. He sought a single leather seat made for the loner, the man who would walk home.

The world was slowly dimmed at the edges and cushioned. Drinking had served its purpose, calmed his nerves and slowed his thoughts. He was still plenty sober. But the minutes passed freely and fast and a chime into one of the microphones claimed Blaine's attention.

Blaine sat up in his chair, his unbuttoned jacket splaying out and making him look especially tired. His black tie was wrinkled.

"Elegant ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Paravott!" A young man with graying hair announced. He held a glass of white wine and a fork in his hands. "It's the top of the hour, which means it's time for one of our talented singers to come out here and flex their vocals. Please give it up for- hold your applause- Kurt Hummel!"

Their was a burst of polite clapping and cheering, and older music began to play, soft and slow. A muted figure started to appear in the blackness on stage.

_"I know it's late, I know you're weary._

_I know your plans don't include me_

_Still here we are, both of us lonely..._

_Longing for shelter from all that we see..."_

The man standing center stage was absolutely stunning. He was slender but tall and had chestnut brown hair the color of Blaine's coffee when he used cream. The singer poured emotion into the song that shouldn't have been able to exist, but the he pulled it off. That's when Blaine realized that the singer's eyes had only fluttered open a few times, his hands clutching the mic and his face smiling under lashes.

Blaine wondered what color the singer's eyes were.

_"Why should we worry, no one will care girl,_

_Look at the stars so far away_

_We've got tonight, who needs tomorrow?_

_We've got tonight babe_

_Why don't you stay?"_

The singer's eyes were open now, smiling softly and drifting over the audience. His orbs locked on Blaine's, and only then did Blaine realize he was staring. He felt his cheeks grow warm, but couldn't pull his own honey-brown eyes away.

_"Deep in my soul, I've been so lonely_

_All of my hopes, fading away_

_I've longed for love, like everyone else does,_

_I know I'll keep searching, even after today."_

The lyrics hit Blaine full on, but what he noticed was that the singer's eyes were blue. Actually, glasz described them to their fullest, but they were still blue all the same.

The song ended and the music faded, but Blaine didn't clap, even if the boy on stage deserved it more than anyone else Blaine had seen perform.

Instead, Blaine could only concentrate on the pools of crystal that still held his eyes in place.

The singer cut off from Blaine and swept over the audience with a smile. He waved in thanks and returned back into the black behind the stage's curtains.

Blaine tried to process what just happened. The last lines of the song had been directed at _him_, or so it appeared. He slumped back down in his chair and caught his bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled on it slowly.

About a half hour flew by before Blaine was awakened from his daze.

"Excuse me?" a voice flowed from the body on his right. "Excuse me? I just noticed you in the audience and wondered if I could buy you a drink..."

Blaine looked up cautiously and saw the very man who had as well as serenaded him thirty minutes ago. His eyes grew wide.

"No, no, no, it's okay," Blaine choked. He stumbled out of his seat and dropped a few bills onto the table. "I was just l-leaving."

The singer frowned and Blaine used the opportunity to push out, into the street, and begin the long walk home.

{{{***}}}

"Blaine, please. Talk to me." **_BEEP!_**

"Blaine, I know you're mad and you have a right to be and all, but you don't know the whole story. Alright, maybe you do, but please, Blaine. Call me back..." BEEP! "Blaine! Call me. Text me. Or better yet, meet me for coffee. I'll be at our coffee shop at ten, and I'll even buy you one of those fattening whipped cream fraps that you indulge in once and a while on special occasions. Please, just hear me out. I know that I shouldn't ha-" **_CRASH!_**

Blaine slammed down on his phone, making it go silent all at once. Bastard. Sean just didn't know how much Blaine purely did _not_ want to talk to him. Bye, Sean. He would have never even made it to the Christmas card list, if there had been one.

It was Sunday morning now, two days after the the blue-eyed boy had sung to him (or so Blaine prayed). It had been two days, and he was still all Blaine could think about whenever his mind led astray from whatever he was supposed to be doing. Which meant quite often.

The singer was obviously homosexual, his voice was too high to belong to a heterosexual man, so Blaine thanked whoever his god was for that. Plus, his suit was slightly tighter fitting than most men's, and his shoes 100% more stylish. And the singer's hair was perfected in a way only a man in Blaine's favor would manage or even attempt.

Blaine paused for a moment and looked into the depth's of his black coffee. What had the bar been called again? It started with a 'P'... Pav... Pava...Pavorott!

He scrambled from his seat and grabbed the only phonebook he allowed himself to own and threw the pages apart. Flipping through the letters, Blaine quickly found the 'P's and got started finding the name among other words. Discovering the entry, Blaine glanced at the address. Hmm... That sounded close to where he'd been on Friday.

Blaine dialed.

A young woman picked up on the third ring. "Hello, Pavarott, my name is Irene. How may I help you?"

"Um, uh, I-I was wondering about the p-performances you do there," Blaine stammered. It seemed like a good idea to call before he'd picked up the phone and actually done it.

"Of course," Irene drew. "Which night?"

"F-friday. Fridays," Blaine managed to get out. Gosh, what was he doing?

"Let's see. Which Friday concerns you?"

"This past one."

"Okay. Last Friday we had Jenna Albright at 9 o'clock, Mitchell Slander at 10, Kurt Hummel at 11 o'clo-"

"There! Kurt Hummel. W-when's he going to be performing again? He was great," Blaine blurted out.

"Kurt Hummel is scheduled to sing again... Tonight, actually! At 9 o'clock. You're in luck, he's left a small note saying he's going to be mingling after his performance. Should I tell him you called..?" Irene questioned.

"No, no. Thank you. I just wondered. Thanks again," Blaine confirmed.

"Well have a good day, sir. And I hope you show up to see Mr. Hummel perform!" The line went dead.

"Yeah... Me too," Blaine whispered.

_I cannot believe I just did that. What the fuck were you thinking? You can't just go out there every time he has a show!_

Blaine glanced at the clock. It was 10 in the morning. It was totally against his better judgement, but he pushed himself up, downed his bitter coffee, and walked towards the bathroom.

After a shower and rigorous routine, Blaine allowed himself another look at the clock. It had only been an hour and a half. He sighed but let his mind wander until it was a suitable time to bust out of his apartment and get lunch.

Kurt had been great... No, stunning even. Amazing. He was like a caged bird in the city, meant to fly free. His voice was one of a kind; an individual shine equal to that of the sun.

The vast city of New York was alive and well. People of all ages, gender and color busied throughout the streets shopping or going to work. It was sunny and beautiful out.

Blaine slowed his normally quickened pace and took on a casual stroll. His favorite café for a mid-day meal was just a few blocks away from his home. He intended to waste as much time as possible.

The curly-haired man entered the café and the familiar bell jingled overhead.

"Blaine! 'Bout time!"

"Hey, man. Been busy."

"Don't mean you can't stop by once 'r twice," Jim grumbled. "Office gettin' ya down?"

"Sort of. Clients are picky and want more than the contract allows... Same old, same old," Blaine sighed.

"Same old sandwich?"

Blaine smiled. "Always."

{{{***}}}

After an internal battle, the electronic timekeeper of Blaine's house finally chimed 8 o'clock. It was a reasonable hour to get ready.

Once at Paravott, Blaine sat in his usual spot and ordered the same drink. He was less rumbled and more awake, so he sat straighter and awaited the glass chime of a fork on glass.

Kurt Hummel finally strutted atop the stage and sung, words and music binding together again. Blaine listened and watched to see if Kurt's glasz eyes would fall on him again. No such luck. The performance ended and Blaine rose from his chair and left.

{{{***}}}

The next few days went by quickly and Blaine managed to keep his mind off Kurt Hummel while at work. He'd gotten a schedule from Irene at Paravott and on a whim, highlighted Kurt's days.

Without much thought to it, Blaine went every hour Kurt sang and serenaded the audience, but to Blaine's disappointment, they never locked powerful gazes again.

He was seated in the spot he always sat in with the drink he always drank in his hand. Kurt had finished singing a few minutes ago, but Blaine hadn't bothered to leave yet.

A body filled the seat in front of Blaine and ordered, but Blaine didn't look up.

"So, are you just going to stare? I mean, that's perfectly fine and allowed, but why are you always alone?"

Blaine's eyes flickered to the chair that faced his. Shit. In all his angelic glory sat Mr. Kurt Hummel. He watched Blaine carefully, his expression calm.

"Ah, er, well, I... I gotta go," Blaine mumbled and dashed out the door, leaving Kurt wide-eyed and alone.

Kurt marveled at the sight of this grown man running out of the bar because of a mere interaction. His suspicions had been easily confirmed.

He laughed to himself and sipped at his drink. Kurt's eyes eventually fell on the debit card the staring stranger had left in his hurry.

No. Impossible. Had he really just... He did, didn't he?

Kurt glanced around, watching to make sure no one caught him. His hand snaked out and grabbed the plastic, flipping it over while doing so.

In a beautifully messy scrawl on shining sliver were the names 'Blaine' and 'Anderson.' Kurt grinned. The staring stranger had just been granted an identity.

{{{***}}}

Blaine strode to the checkout lane, Advil in hand. His hangover was a hammer pounding on the sides of his skull with each step he took. Ughh... He waited patiently in line to make his purchase that would hopefully subdue the aftereffects of drinking so much.

"Hello! Were you able to find all the items you wanted?" the cheerful casher asked.

"... yeah. Yeah, I found everything." Blaine mumbled. He dug in his wallet and flopped a card out onto the counter. Just ten more minutes and he'd be home...

"Sir, this-this is a GAP discount card... I can't accept it," the cashier-Kerrie (Blaine read her name tag)- frowned.

"Ummm, uh, yeah," Blaine forced out. "Lemme see..."

He opened his wallet and began flipping through the various plastics.

Grocer, LGTB membership card, punchcard (just two more until he got a sandwich free!) ...No debt card. Damnit. He tossed out a few bills instead. Where the hell was his debt card?

"Five seventy-three is your change," she flashed her teeth at Blaine again.

"Thanks..."

{{{***}}}

Kurt twirled the thin, cool plastic between his fingers. Blaine Anderson, Blaine Anderson, Blaine Anderson... Who was this guy? Why did he always show up when Kurt sang? The guy was gorgeous, Kurt admitted to himself. Probably straight, considering how he dressed and his voice. It was pitched low and normal, lacking the more feminine edge Kurt and a portion of the population of gay men owned.

Kurt thought for a while about the curly-haired stranger. Blaine hadn't looked up for Kurt to identify the shade Blaine's eyes were. Kurt knew they were brown, but there were so many variations on the color, especially when you looked at a person's eyes. They could be milk chocolate, muddy (which Kurt doubted. He'd been too handsome for mud-puddle eyes) deep dark brown, or more of a hazel color. Hazel could be pretty on the stranger.

Kurt was singing again tonight. He glanced at the calendar, clenching at the circled and starred date. The small square had colorful stickers of confetti around the number. Rachel Berry had to lay off the stickers.

He wanted Blaine to show up, Kurt was sure of that. However, Kurt had extremely mixed feelings about what he himself should do. Part of him wanted to sing and ignore Blaine. Another told him to talk to him again and give him back his debt card. The third section of his brain said, "Act like you don't have it." The tiny part of him told him to flaunt the card in front of Blaine's face and NOT hand it over, but just until he knew if Blaine was gay or not. God, Kurt hoped he was head over heels for cock.

{{{***}}}

"Hummel! You're on in five," Harper yelled. "Which one did you decide to sing again?"

Kurt told him.

"It's more challenging but well within my range," Kurt replied.

"Good. On in four."

Harper Casey held the loose position of Performance Manager at Club Paravott. He was considerate but also efficient. Harper was even stylish on Kurt's own critical fashionista scale.

" 'Nuff waiting, get out there, Kurt. Old man's already made his stupid speech." Harper also had the perfect bit of bitchy in his brain to keep Kurt in check.

Kurt stepped gracefully onto the stage, music starting to crescendo and flow through his veins at just the right volume for singing. Notes drifted over his ears, making Kurt's thoughts stutter then clear in excitement. It was this rush that made him get up to the mic.

Kurt's eyes got caught in the performance and slowly seeped over the audience. Each person was at least a little attentive, which he appreciated. Kind listeners put him in good spirits. A pretty lady in deep red was even mouthing the words with a small smile on her face.

There was a bubble of happiness around Kurt, it was floaty an-

Blaine Anderson was here. Usual chair, same suit, and even the identical shade of amber liquid in the glass.

Well, shit.

The music stopped crawling out the speakers gently, and Kurt smiled at the crowd, gave a wave, and thanked them. Then the usual little speech about different happy hours that only changed a slightly... Kurt was done.

Instead of slipping back into the shadows as everyone expected, he padded down the black steps connected to the stage and towards the bar. People gave him worried looks, which he ignored. Kurt ordered and attempted to creep near Blaine Anderson, but he was already staring.

"Blaine..."

"How do you know my name?" Blaine said, alarmed.

Kurt cursed under his breath. Might as well come clean. "You left your debit card here last time when I tried to talk to you."

"Oh... So that's why... Ohhhhh. Sorry," Blaine muttered.

Blaine's eyes weren't any of the colors Kurt had imagined. They were amber and gold, with cute little green specks. They were absolutely beautiful... Kurt forced himself to take a deep breath. He smiled to himself. "Here."

Beautiful Blaine slowly took the plastic from Kurt, checking both sides before sliding his wallet out. "Can I buy you a drink...? Assuming you didn't blow it or anything..."

"Oh, no. I didn't." Kurt held up his glass. "Can I just talk to you instead?"

"Sure," Blaine replied.

"I'm sorry about last time. That was over the line. I thought you were staring, but you weren't-"

"I was," Blaine said sharply. "I don't even know your name, well, if you perform under a different one then I don't. But I'd like to."

Kurt cocked his head. "Kurt Hummel."

"Blaine Anderson. But I suppose my debit card already told you that," Blaine grinned, revealing a row of sparkling white teeth. God, he was even more gorgeous when he smiled. He could definitely do toothpaste commercials.

Kurt laughed, "Yeah, I suppose I did know that. So, Blaine, how old are you, what do you do for a living, and why are you strolling the streets of New York?"

Blaine gaped at the boy. That was quite a lot of questions. He concentrated on the first.

"How old am I? Really?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "You can't be that old."

"Twenty-six," Blaine replied grudgingly. "I'm lawyer, whatever you want to call it. I act and sing a little on the side, but it's more of a hobby than a career. As for why I'm here, I got sick of where I grew up." He SUNG?!

"Where did you grow up?" Kurt asked.

Blaine laughed. "No. Uh-uh. You have to give me answers now."

"Also twenty-six. I sing, obviously, and I design clothes sometimes. I'm here for a similar reason. I had this big Broadway dream as a teenager, but this suits me a little bit better. I grew up in Lima, Ohio. Your turn," Kurt deadpanned.

"Ohio. Wow. I grew up in Westerville, just a few hours away. Wow... That's... Wow," Blaine blinked.

'His lashes, his lashes...' Kurt thought.

"Wow," Kurt repeated. "Huh."

Blaine nodded. "Yeah..."

"And we both just happen to come to the same bar at the same time in the same state for different reasons, all by coincidence," Kurt prompted.

Blaine let the corners of his mouth turn up. "Okay, you're really good. Like, extremely good."

Kurt paused, then shuffled a few bills on the table and grasped Blaine's wrist. "C'mon."

"Whoa, whoa! Where do you think we're going? I haven't even paid yet! Let-"

"We're going on a walk so I don't have to be here when Tiffany performs, and I'm buying you that drink," he said. "Tiff's a bit of a slut, and I want to talk to you."

Blaine hesitated. "Fine. But it's just a walk."

They were out of the bar now, so Kurt turned to look at him. "Are you implying that I'm gay? That I'm trying to lure you out for an alley fuck or something? Remember to yell 'FIRE'."

"No, n-no," Blaine choked. Kurt's overwhelming. The effects of the alcohol buzz were starting to wear off. He'd been more mellow tonight. "I just... Never mind."

"You'd be right," Kurt corrected. "Don't feel bad. It's incredibly obvious, I'm surprised you didn't ask. I am gay, but I've got the feeling you're not exactly here to watch the female bartenders, either." Kurt raised an eyebrow. He took the chance, even though he had few ideas.

"Yeah, I'm not," Blaine confirmed, ducking his head. Kurt's heart grew wings and soared in less than a second.

"You could probably pass off as straight. I definitely can't, my voice is too high, but you're not flamboyantly gay." Not at _all_.

"Your cufflinks have rhinestones," Blaine smirked.

Kurt twirled on his toes. "So they are. Why aren't yours bedazzled? I'm very fashionable."

Blaine laughed. "Kurt, you're something else..."

"You are too, Mr. Comes-to-bar-to-listen-to-fashionable-countertenor," Kurt grinned.

"_I'm_ not twirling."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

Kurt grabbed his arm again and spun Blaine, leaving them both gasping between giggles. Alcohol made him like this, drowning out his maturity.

"We are way to old for this," Blaine snorted. "And we're just acquaintances."

"Says the man who nurses a crush by stalking a guy's career," Kurt teased, ignoring Blaine's second statement.

"Hey! Now you're just putting words in my mouth," Blaine frowned.

Kurt looked over his shoulder at Blaine, wiggled his eyebrows, and whispered, "Words?"

Blaine flushed, red before Kurt turned back around.

"I'm not flirting," Blaine countered.

"I kind of wish you were, it'd be a whole lot more fun," Kurt pouted. His lips were pink against his alabaster skin.

Kurt was strutting down the street at a quick pace, and Blaine was forced to notice how much longer Kurt's legs were. They walked in silence until Kurt stopped in front of an ice cream parlor. He pointed to the door, asking with his body.

"You want to get ice cream with someone you've known for less than an hour," Blaine sighed.

"I've known you longer than that. We just did introductions tonight. Plus, where else would we go? Have any better ideas? Aren't we supposed to get to know each other through experiences and time? We can't do that if you cut me off now," Kurt pointed out.

"I never said I wanted to get to know you. I was perfectly fine staring from that chair." Blaine's amber eyes focused on Kurt's blue ones.

"That's the second time you've admitted to staring. No shame, huh? And you definitely weren't 'perfectly fine' because you kept-keep- coming each night." Kurt pulled his eyebrows together. "...Would you- why wouldn't you want to even try to get to know me? And in return let me learn about you?" He was slightly hurt.

"We aren't involved in anything similar together. I'm just supposed to get to know someone whom I don't see anywhere but a random bar?" Blaine stated.

Kurt's eyes were amused. "You wouldn't only have to see me there. I could see you outside of Paravott. We're not there now."

"So you just took a random special interest in me. Why?"

Kurt blushed. "No idea. It's just like you said, random interest." He thanked the sky for being dark and hiding his red cheeks. "Plus, you were staring."

"That's not it. And that's a horrible cover," Blaine pushed, ignoring Kurt's second statement.

"What? I just think you're probably a lot more fun to be with than the guy who usually sits at table six and eats breadsticks all night."

"I probably am, but that's still not it."

"Why does it matter?"

"I just walked out of a bar with a complete stranger! And we're going for a _walk_. You're not doing a very good job of making me trust you before you fuck me senseless."

"Excuse me? I have no desire to get into anyone's pants tonight, Blaine Anderson. I asked if you wanted to get ice cream," Kurt exclaimed. "How did we go from bedazzled cufflinks and twirling to one-night stands?"

"Ice cream's fitted in there somewhere."

"We haven't gotten any," Kurt growled.

Blaine glanced at Kurt and his feet, then back to Kurt. "We could. I'd be fine with it."

"Wait... Are you with anyone? You're probably not, because spinning and walking with me and then getting dessert would be considered cheating in some far of land. At least it would to me."

Blaine turned his serious look into something very confused. "You're asking if I'm single."

"I'm also asking a few more things, but you can start with that one if you prefer," Kurt sighed. His arms wrapped around himself loosely.

"I'm definitely not in any kind of relationship. Forget I said anything about learning anything about you. I'd love to get ice cream. And do a few more things with you too," Blaine soothed. "I'm just a little... Cautious, I guess. I'm kind of getting over one of my harsher break-ups. You're gay, so I'm just a little scared. This is how my last relationship went. One of my friends set us up. We started out as just that but morphed and **_POOF_**- I'm without him completely."

Kurt blinked at him.

"Oh, shit, Kurt. I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have to here about that sort of stuff. We don't know each other yet," Blaine apologized.

Kurt shuffled his feet and glanced up at Blaine. "You're right," he whispered. "We don't know each other."

"Why are you getting so upset?" Blaine whispered back.

"I have no idea." Kurt's eyes were glimmering with tears. "None."

That wasn't true; Kurt had several. He'd become attached to Blaine in a strange way, one he tried to understand but failed.

They entered the cute ice cream parlor and Blaine insisted on paying.

"To say sorry for dumping that on you. It's not exactly equivalent, but I'll make it up to you sometime. I also have to thank you for the debit card fiasco soon..."

Kurt managed a smile. "Oh don't worry about that. It's what any decent person would do."

"I want to," Blaine concluded. He couldn't have someone he didn't know- no matter how beautiful that person was- do him a large favor and then go and upset them. Blaine knew a lot better than that.

The pair took a seat by the window and slowly ate spoonfuls of hazelnut chocolate and strawberry ice cream.

"Can I ask some questions now?" Blaine hesitated.

"Sure," Kurt reassured him with a small smile. "I asked you a few already."

Blaine smiled back. "Cool. So, first question. Hmm... When is Kurt Hummel's birthday?"

Kurt raised a thin brow. "April sixteenth."

Blaine cocked his head. "Sixteenth, sixteenth... What's today?"

Kurt blushed wildly and averted his gaze. Blaine was sure to see it without the night's black shield. "The sixteenth," he muttered. Blaine's eyes went as round as saucers.

"You're kidding. Shit, Kurt. Why didn't you tell me? Now I'm even more glad that I bought your ice cream... You returned a guy's plastic cash, dragged him unwillingly for a walk, and then got a fit over ice cream." Blaine shook his head. "We're leaving," he said as Kurt scraped out his styrofoam dish.

"It's just a day. Personally, I don't care. Sit, Blaine."

"No. C'mon." Blaine grabbed Kurt's wrist and gently yanked him from his seat. "We have to celebrate."

Everything was so natural with Kurt. They fell into a swift but slow pace perfect for the bustling city.

"This is weird," Kurt declared.

"Really?" Blaine deadpanned.

They reached a park, and Blaine plopped into one of the swings.

"Oh, c'mon. Paravott's not that far from here," Kurt frowned.

"You're going to sit. And we're going to talk. And I'm going to decide if- never mind."

"Decide what?"

"Never mind."

"What, Blaine?" Kurt huffed.

"Nothing! I swear!"

Kurt sighed. "Whatever."

"Good. Now talk," Blaine commanded childishly.

Kurt let one side of his mouth smile. "Bossy, aren't you?"

"Sometimes," Blaine pouted.

"It's..." _Cute._ "You know, I don't even know what to say."

"About my bossiness or my request?"

"Request?" Kurt laughed. But even so, aren't they the same thing?"

"No. My personality and what I want you to talk to me about."

"Oh."

"Kurt... Happy birthday, you know. I never told you," Blaine smiled sadly.

"Thanks..."

"Let's get out of here," Blaine proclaimed.

"I was just getting into it!" Kurt whined.

"Too bad."

"But it's my birthday!"

"If you don't have anymore, I'll personally come to your funeral."

"As opposed to sending someone for you?" Kurt questioned.

Blaine grinned. "People will do anything for money, Kurt."

Kurt gasped. "You're horrible, Anderson."

Blaine laughed and tugged Kurt to his feet. "C'mon."

{{{***}}}

Blaine pulled open the apartment building door, gesturing for Kurt to go in.

"I'm going in a complete stranger's apartment."

"Nu-uh, don't change sides. You were being completely weird before."

"Different," Kurt muttered.

"Sure. Whatever floats your boat!" Blaine grinned. "Plus, it's not that weird. People go places with strangers after being in a bar all the time."

Kurt giggled, remembering how he'd shamelessly teased Blaine earlier.

They walked in complete silence.

Blaine sighed and gently grasped Kurt's hand (which was softer than his own), leading him to his door once they'd arrived.

"What was the point of me bringing you here?"

"No idea," Kurt uttered. "I'm not one for one night stands." He looked around the room.

"You made an innuendo earlier. But I'll choose to ignore it." Blaine sighed. "It's your birthday. Do you... Do you want something to drink?"

"Water," Kurt shrugged.

Taking Kurt's lead, Blaine poured two glasses of cold water from the refrigerator. He handed one to Kurt.

"Do you have a radio? Or iPod?" Kurt asked suddenly.

"Uhh..."

"Never mind. It was an idea."

Blaine walked over and gently turned on the under-counter radio.

"Station preference?"

"No," Kurt smiled. "Anything's fine... Not country."

Blaine laughed. "My old Glee club frowned upon country."

"You were in Glee?"

"Dalton Academy Warblers. We were an acapella group," Blaine informed him.

"Holy shit," Kurt breathed. "McKinley High. We took Nationals in 2012."

Blaine almost dropped his water. "Nationals?" He squeaked.

Kurt smirked. "Yes."

"Wow."

"Yep. ...Dalton... I think we may have competed against you once. 2011, maybe...?"

"Think so."

"P!nk number? Blazers?"

"Yes."

Kurt gasped. "Y-you were the lead soloist."

"Kinda. It was a little boring sometimes. Same thing all the time," Blaine shrugged.

"You were the _lead soloist_."

"I kinda was."

Kurt's astonishment was really pretty adorable.

"Blaine... That's no small feat." His eyes were still wide, as was his mouth.

"Neither is taking Nationals," Blaine countered.

Kurt grew quiet and stared at the floor. "We grew up just hours away from each other..."

"Yeah..." Blaine sighed. "I think... I think you would have been a good friend to me if I'd met you."

"I think... I think I should have gone when Puck told me to spy on the Garglers."

"Puck? The _Garglers_?"

"Oh," Kurt waved it aside. "Puck was one of our Glee members. The one with the outdated Mohawk. I told him tons of times that I could figure some nice style out for him, but he never let me. Actually, I was showing the boys fashion ideas for our boys vs. girls competition and that's when he told me to 'make myself useful and visit the Garglers'," Kurt used finger quotes.

"Puck sounds weird."

"He is. He lives in LA and sends me drunken texts every once in a while."

"He probably likes you." Blaine teased.

"Puck's straight. He's also a slut. Or he used to be."

"Hmm... Are you a slut?"

"Blaine! No! I hate you!"

"Ouch... I think I'm going to go ahead and take offense to that, because we haven't known each other that long."

Kurt looked up at him. "This is one of those times I accidentally say something I definitely don't mean."

"It's ok. I forgive you," Blaine shrugged. "That also comes with not knowing you long. Second chance."

"I said it before and I'll say again. We just did introductions tonight, we've known each other longer. And I didn't apologize."

"Then I'm still hurt."

Their playful conversation ended and the silence that followed was awkward yet comfortable.

"We should do this again," Blaine's head jerked up.

"What?"

"I'd like to get to know you better, Blaine. You're easy to talk to. Are you still reluctant to learn about me?"

"No..." Blaine trailed off.

Kurt smiled. "Good to know. I'll see around." He picked his forearms off the counter.

"Are you sure you don't want me to walk you home?" Blaine asked. "Or you can stay here."

Kurt gave him a sly smile, "You could. If you want to walk to the stairs and up two flights."

"You're in this building too?" Blaine blanched.

Kurt grinned. "I didn't want to mention it."

"Okay. Yeah. Okay. See you around, Kurt. Happy birthday!"

"Bye, Blaine." He closed the door behind Kurt's figure when it disappeared.

It had been an interesting night. Not that it hadn't been nice, no. It'd been great.

It was perfect for someone who had someone to get over.

* * *

Sorry, they didn't kiss. Maybe if anyone asks, I'll write a second part. Then I'll make sure they do, just for you. Ooooh that rhymed!

Read something else by me and they will get their mack on, k? 3

And I know nobody uses actual telephone books anymore, but bear with me please. Blaine seems old-fashioned-y.

Song Used: "We've Got Tonight"


End file.
